Addiction
by XxShawns Guardian AngelxX
Summary: Written for Slashburd-A game of cat and mouse between two like personalities. Who comes out on top?


**Addiction**

_For slashburd_

***xxxxxxxxxxx***

It was like a game of cat and mouse except every week the roles reversed. Thinking back to the weeks coming up to the big pay off Randy found himself seemingly always playing the part of the mouse. And the funny thing about it is that this was a role he rarely played and if he did, it was because he wanted to be. Week after week that arrogant bastard by the name of CM Punk put one over on him. Just when Randy thought he had him all figured out-what he was going to do next-he came up short, much like he almost did at Wrestlemania. But who says the game has to end in the ring? Or in this case end at all.

Tonight was the big draft and there was a chance that their game would be forced to conclude before either man could determine just exactly who the real kitty was in this sick game. Games like this usually commenced as a type of hazing and maybe it was on Randy's end. Hell compared to him, Punk was still just a dumb rookie with nothing to brag about except a fluke of a title run and living the straightedge life. But that was nothing compared to Randy's impressive resume especially outside the ring.

Randy walked the halls whistling, not bothering to partake in the before the draft jitters with the rest of his fellow actors. Instead, he was on a hunt because whether Punk knew it or not tonight just might be the last night they'd play cat and mouse and in case this was the end, Randy wasn't going out as the appetizer.

**-XX-**

Punk knew Randy was looking for him. How did he know? Because he'd spent months studying him and the way his mind worked and so far, so good. Each time he managed to stay one step ahead though before the big pay day he could even brag to being two steps ahead Mr. RKO. Randy was slipping, no doubt due to the fact that many changes were taking place in his life, most them centered around the most hated guy backstage but Punk liked this. This was just the opening he needed to get close to the one who could keep him entertained. Sure he lived a straightedge life but with that came other addictions straightedge didn't cover, one of them being Randy Orton.

He and Randy were a lot alike so what better way to get his attention than to engage him in a friendly game of "Who's the smartest of them all?" To others it might have sounded cheesy but neither he nor Randy were exactly normal people. Normal for them equaled boring-and he assumed that's why Cena was pretty much out of the picture and would be for good after tonight. That was pretty much guaran-damn-teed after hearing Randy tell his sister over the phone that he had a lighter schedule now. While most guys didn't know where they'd be going year after year, guys like Randy always knew. But the one thing Randy didn't know was that he was going to be leaving as the little humble mouse Punk wanted him to be.

**-xx-**

Randy was seething. His locker room had been completely trashed and though it was his last night on Raw, that wasn't the fucking point. There was a note left behind with a scribbled address on it as well as what looked like a room key. Randy stared at the card key, his faced twisted in confusion. A game. It was still part of the game. He knew this and yet he couldn't stop smiling twistedly as he stuck the key in his back pocket, grabbing his suitcase and wheeling it out of the building leaving the trashed dressing room for somebody else to worry about.

**-xx-**

Punk knew that trashing Randy's locker room was a bit much especially since by leaving his room key, that pretty much told Randy everything he wanted, provided he was smart enough to realize that he wasn't kidding around anymore. Punk left the arena in plenty enough time to get back, get changed and get ready. He'd been pacing the room for what seemed like an eternity before the sound of a click made his ears perk up. The door slowly opened and just as he thought, Randy was closing the door behind him, a sick and twisted look painted in his face.

**-xx-**

Something told Randy that Punk knew he would come. Thing is, he almost didn't. He wasn't sure why but Punk gave him the choice. He could take that key and toss it leaving with his head held high thus ending the game in a draw. Or he could do what Punk wanted him to do by seeking him out as the "cat" and giving Punk whatever it is that he wanted, no doubt it being attention considering his behavior as of late.

The door clicked behind him and he made it his business to lock the door. There Punk stood alone and seemingly vulnerable just inches from his bed, but Randy knew better. Punk's lips twitched ever so slightly confirming what Randy knew all alone. This was game, set and match; match going to Punk because he actually managed to get him to come to him. Randy rolled his eyes as he crossed the room taking a seat on the edge of the bed. Punk finally broke character chuckling softly as he took a seat next to the Viper. "Hey come on Randall. Don't tell me you haven't enjoyed our little game. I mean, I know I've been owning your ass week after week after week, but the fact remains that you're still crown prince of all things crazy." Punk sat up straight saluting Randy, snorting when he could no longer contain himself.

Randy reached over shoving the smaller man hard causing him to fall off the bed. "You're sick Punk. If you wanted my attention all you had to do was ask. Most people approach their persons of interest with a drink offer. That cuts the dramatics short and you get straight to the fucking point."

Punk scooted on his knees closer to the bed, kneeling before Randy. "Hey...lighten up. If I know you those very kissable lips of yours twitched ever so slightly upward when you saw my little invitation." He smacked Randy's jaws playfully quickly withdrawing from the look Randy shot him. "Oh come on! If you weren't the least bit interested in me fucking your brains out, you'd have tossed that card and went home, never to think of me again but softly in your sleep," he mocked.

Punk used Randy's knees for support as he stood to his feet. He made to walk away when Randy's hand clasped around his wrist. Punk didn't turn around right away. He needed to smile, or rather give off his signature victory smirk as he waited for Randy to make his move. Punk felt himself being jerked towards Randy then quickly shoved backwards, the viper wasting no time covering his body. Eager hands roamed Randy's sides but annoyed, Randy smacked them away. "No, no Punkers. If this is what you wanted well I'm about to give it to you. Fuck my brains out?" he growled low in Punk's ear. "Never. I'm going to fuck you and then leave you right where you are-spent and aching for more of something that you'll never have again."

Punk's eyes danced wildly, not bothering to hide the fact that this is what he wanted. He writhed eagerly as skillful hands roamed his body, every now and then slipping past the waistband of boxers to toy with with his wakening member. "Fuck Randy...come on...stop fucking playing around."

Randy chuckled, amused by his eagerness. "Very well." He reached behind him for his back pocket pulling out a set of handcuffs dangling them over Punk. He watched Punk's face and how just the sight of the cuffs both excited him and humbled him at the same time. Randy wasted no time grabbing Punk's arms stretching them high above his head before slapping on the cuffs. He leaned over Punk brushing his lips against his but pulling away at the last second before their lips could even touch. He crawled off the bed starting for the door.

Punk quickly sat up, his face twisted in confusion. "Randall, where ya going?" He wasn't liking this at all.

Randy merely smirked before pulling the door open. "You win Punk. The game's over but before I go, I'll leave you with this. Call it a parting gift that weeks of playing with you helped me pick out especially for you."

He stood aside and Glenn Jacobs entered the room, ball gag in one hand and a black bag in the other. His cold laugh echoed thorough the room before he shoved Randy out the door. "I'll take it from here Mr. Orton."

Punk struggled in his cuffs, face contorted in rage. "Randy this wasn't part of the game! What the fuck are you playing at?"

"You may be straightedge Punk but your addiction to pain is about as bad as drinking. Dont worry," he smirked. "It's as you said-we are one in the same and as a parting gift, I give to you the cure that helped me get over my own addiction." Glenn slammed the door shut behind Randy, who lingered behind just long enough to hear the first crack of the whip. With a smirk, he pulled out his cell dialing the only number that mattered these days. "Hey John? We're still on for tomorrow right?"


End file.
